


Five Times Gladio Held Iris (and One When She Held Him)

by banjkazfan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Chill XV, Drinking, During Canon, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Most of these characters are only mentioned, Nicknames, Post-Game(s), Pre-Game(s), Protective Siblings, Sibling Love, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 01:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banjkazfan/pseuds/banjkazfan
Summary: Gladio is eight years old when Iris is born.  He remembers the day vividly: it’s a sweltering September afternoon, unseasonally warm and sticky.  He’s invited in to the hospital room by his father’s firm hand, and his mother gives him the most beautiful smile when he enters.





	Five Times Gladio Held Iris (and One When She Held Him)

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of the monthly challenge posted to the Chill FFXV discord group, and our July theme was...*drumroll* Brother! This is dedicated to everyone in that group for making the environment so warm, friendly, and welcoming. <3 I'm very, very happy to have met and be able to talk with everyone there.
> 
> The character death mentioned in the tags refers to Gladio and Iris' mother (since she's never mentioned, I assumed she had Disney Mom-itis), as well as...yeah. Endgame spoilers. But I figured it was better to mention it up front.

I. 

Gladio is eight years old when Iris is born.  He remembers the day vividly: it’s a sweltering September afternoon, unseasonally warm and sticky.  He’s invited in to the hospital room by his father’s firm hand, and his mother gives him the most beautiful smile when he enters.

“Look, Gladiolus.”  Her voice is soft but never weak as she calls his attention.  “Come meet your sister.”

Gladio hesitantly makes his way to her side, looking down at the bundle in her arms.  He’s greeted by a puffy, red, wrinkled face and he tries to smother his own unimpressed expression.  They’ve waited nine months for this little cranberry raisin?

His mother laughs at his face.  “She might not seem much to you, but to us, she’s as beautiful as you were the day you were born.”

Gladio looks down at his well-shined shoes and turns his mother’s words over.  He’s at the age where being called “beautiful” is more of an embarrassment than a compliment, and he doesn’t know how to respond.

“Here.”  His mother holds out the baby.  “Hold her, Gladiolus.  You won’t hurt her.”

He wants to refuse, but the way his mother looks at him, her bright amber eyes standing out against her pale, clammy skin, how can he?  He cannot deny his mother, and Gladio nods as he reaches out.

Before he can touch her, Clarus is suddenly behind him and helps to prop one of Gladio’s elbows a little higher.  “You need to support her neck,” he says, and Gladio nods as his mother gently lifts Iris into his arms.  He’s surprised by how _light_ she feels and he looks down at her in awe.

“Her name is Iris,” his mother whispers.  “Another beautiful flower for the Amicitia garden.”

At that moment, the baby opens her eyes and looks straight up at him.  She pauses for a breath, taking everything in, and then she lets out the sweetest giggle.  
  
Gladio’s arms immediately tighten around her and he speaks immediately without thinking.  “I’ll protect her,” he promises, his eyes never leaving her tiny face.  He’s being raised to be the Shield, after all.  It’s second nature at this point.  He feels as if there’s nothing in this world that could take this child - his baby sister; _his_ baby sister - from him, unless it goes through him first.

 

II.

Iris is about four years old when her mother dies and she bursts into the training room, practically throwing herself at Gladio.  She barely notices that Gladio quickly has to cast aside his practice weapon to wrap his arms around her; her tears are too thick and they blur her vision.  She buries her face in Gladio’s neck and cries so hard her whole body wracks with it.

“M-mommy…!”  Iris breaks down in sobs and Gladio feels his breath hitch.  He knows.  This has been a long time coming.  His own eyes begin to sting, but he immediately forces it back.   _No_.  He has to be the strong one now.  Even though he’s only 12 and it feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.  His arms tighten around Iris, holding her close, and he can feel the burning eyes of Prince Noctis on him as he sets aside his own training weapon.

He’s known his mother was sickly for years.  He’s heard his father argue with her, long before Iris was born, about how another child would likely kill her.  But his mother had lifted her chin and fixed him with that gaze that could make even Clarus Amicitia stop dead in his tracks, and she had quietly informed him that she was willing to take the risks.

Gladio’s always known the decision could catch up with her.  But he never expected it, four years later.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by tiny fists pounding on his chest.

“W-why _weren’t you there_?”  Iris hiccups, trying to breathe through her snotty tears and finding herself unable.

He wasn’t there because she hadn’t wanted him to be, Gladio realizes.  She had smiled and dismissed him like it was any other regular morning, kissing his cheek (despite his constant assurances that he was _twelve,_ he didn’t need _kisses_ ) and telling him to work hard.

She hadn’t let on that she was sicker than before, that she was slowly _dying_.

“Daddy says you’re the _Shield_ ,” Iris sobs, her beating fists slowing to a weak staccato.  “W-why weren’t you there to protect  _mommy_?”

He doesn’t have an answer for her.  She’s young.  She won’t understand that his job is to protect Prince Noctis in favor of all else.  In lieu of trying to explain, Gladio just holds her tightly, pinning her arms against his chest so she’s forced to stop hitting him and he tucks her face against his neck.  
  
“I’ll protect _you_ ,” he promises, voice so soft that Iris doesn’t even hear it over her own sobs.  He barely notices the tears that run down the bridge of his nose and dampen her hair.

 

III.

Iris is six when she decides that rules don’t apply to her.  If Gladio’s told her once, he’s told her _a thousand times_ to stay out of the gardens.  Iris knows damn well she’s not allowed to be here, that the last time she was here there was a whole _manhunt_ out for her and Noctis.  But she _is_ an Amicitia, and she’s stubborn as hell. She does what she wants.  So Gladio’s not _really_ surprised when one of the palace staff approaches him in the training room as he’s putting away his weapon and worriedly informs him that his sister is in the garden.

He _does_ break into a sprint when he’s told that she’s out there _crying_.

When Gladio finds Iris, back behind the hydrangea bush, he visibly relaxes.  She’s not bleeding, at least, though her ankle looks swollen and painful.  Thick tears roll down her cheeks as she tries to steady her hiccuping breaths.  “Gladdy,” she whimpers, and she’s clearly embarrassed to have been caught.  “I-I fell…”  She opens her mouth to try and explain further, but he shakes his head and closes the distance between them.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he says, kneeling next to her.  “C’mon, put your arms around me.  Hold on tight.”  His voice is calmer, and that almost worries Iris more.  At least when he’d shouted at her the last time, she knew exactly how he felt.  She knows that he was worried, and angry, and _scared_ that she’d disappeared, but now she doesn’t know what he’s thinking when his voice is calm and measured.  She loops her arms around his neck, holding tightly to her own wrist as Gladio slides an arm under her knees and lifts her up.

He carries her inside, down the hallways towards the main doors, and they’re halfway there before he speaks.  “Well, let’s get your story straight,” he says.  Iris lifts her head from his shoulder and looks up at him in confusion.  “What, you wanna tell Dad that you disobeyed him and came out here again?  Go for it.”  He keeps his face impassive, but can’t hide a hint of smirk as she rapidly shakes her head.  “That’s what I thought.  Alright, so why did you come here?”

Iris thinks for a moment.  It’s harder than she expected to think of a lie.  “Um...Jared helped me make some treats and I wanted you to have one?”

“Don’t drag other people into it,” Gladio says firmly.  “You’ll put Jared in a bad spot if Dad asks him.”

“O-oh…”  Iris thinks again.  “I wanted to play with Noct?”  That’s still true enough.  She likes the young prince.

“Dad’s gonna think you didn’t learn anything from last time.”  Gladio frowns.  Though Noctis had formally taken the blame for their outing, Clarus isn’t stupid.  He’d _known_ something else happened, though he’d never asked about it.  Still, better to avoid that altogether.

Her cheeks puff out and she thinks again.  “Okay.  I have one more.  But it’s not a lie.”

Gladio sighs a little and hoists her into a better grip.  “Oh?  What’s that, then?”

Iris closes her eyes and leans her head against his shoulder.  “I wanted to see you,” she whispers after a long moment.  She snuffles slightly as she buries her face in his neck, trying to will away the throb of pain in her ankle.

His heart melts and his arms tighten around her.  Sometimes having a little sister is a right pain in the ass.  And then sometimes she manages to slip right past his defenses with soft little sentiments like _that_.

Dammit.  Now he _has_ to take the blame, because he can’t let their father get angry at her after she says something _so damn cute_.

(In the end, it’s a moot point.  When he arrives at the Citadel, having come looking for Iris, Jared sees Gladio carrying Iris and assess the situation with a glance.  He smoothly comes up with a cover story about how Iris had twisted her ankle running down the stairs at home.  He promises Gladio that Clarus will never know that she was there.

Clarus isn’t stupid.  But he decides he can let it go.  Just this once.)

 

IV.

Iris is ten and she’s straining against her brother’s grip, practically hissing at the man retreating with his tail between his legs.  The man is glancing back in actual terror, and Gladio can’t tell if he’s more scared of Gladio’s 6’3” frame or the tiny 4’11” girl in his arms.

While at the market, the man complained to some buddies about the military draft and how it must be nice to be the prince, because clearly royal blood means you don’t have to serve.  He’d quickly changed his tune when a rabid preteen came launching at him.  Thank the Six that Gladio was there to literally snatch her out of the air.

“Gladdy, _let go of me!_ ”

“ _Hell_ no.”  Despite being eight years older and physically stronger, she’s certainly giving him a run for his money.  Gladio grunts as one of her stray flailing arms clips his jaw.  Dammit.  That’s probably going to bruise.  “Knock it _off_ , Iris!”

“Didn’t you hear what he said?” she demands, turning back to glower at Gladio.  “He said all those terrible things about Noct!”  

“Yeah, I know.”  Gladio holds her tighter and clenches his jaw.  “It’s fine.  It’s not the last time someone’s gonna say something dumb about royalty.”

“You didn’t even stand up for him!” Iris pouts.  Her crush on Noctis is in full swing, though she’s currently in the _worst_ kind of denial about it.

“Yeah, I _know_ ,” Gladio repeats, a little terser than before as he takes her foot to his shin.  “I don’t hit Crown citizens, and I’m _not_ letting _you_ do it instead!”  
  
Iris goes still for a moment, but Gladio still doesn’t let himself relax.  She has a habit of going boneless and then winding back up when you least expect it.  “...why do people say these things?” she whispers.  “The King and Noct work so hard to make them happy, and this is what they say…”  
  
Gladio bites his tongue and refrains from commenting that Noct isn’t quite ready to think about making the people happy yet.  He'll get there, though.  “The people don’t see what goes on in the Citadel,” he answers instead.  “They don’t know all the work that goes into running the country.  Everyone thinks they can do better watching at home.”

She thinks about this.  But she’s ten.  It’s not a satisfactory answer at her age.  For the first time, Iris is learning that not everybody loves Noctis the way that she does.  She goes silent and leans back into her brother’s grip, and his touch goes from restraining to comforting.  
  
He gets it.  He _does_.  And he’s sorry that she had to learn about it like this.

 

V. 

Iris is 15 the night that the royal entourage slinks into Cape Caem, trying to remain unseen.  They’re lying low and trying to avoid unnecessary attention for the next few days at least; Ignis tells her that a big hunt had gone particularly badly when an Imperial envoy showed up and that it had been...messy.  Monica assures Ignis that it’s no problem and that they’re welcome to stay as long as they like.

Dave was by and gone before, like a tumbleweed in the wind, but tumbleweeds don’t typically leave beer for the 18+ crowd, so he’s got that going for him.  There’s enough beer to sustain them for a few days, so naturally Prompto declares that they should drink it all tonight.  Thankfully Monica intervenes then, taking most of it and shutting it away while giving him a _look._  Prompto looks properly chagrined as he ferrets away the remaining two six packs and carries them upstairs.

Which leads them to now.  Noctis is sprawled, asleep on the bed - he’s fine; Ignis made sure of that, but he’s been asleep for the better part of the evening after ingesting a single beer.  Prompto is sitting in the metal chair, leaning it just so that his head rests against the wall and two chair legs are off the floor to match the two cans he’s left next to him.  Ignis looks like he wants to chide him about it, but he’s far too tired to do much about it.  He won’t be driving tomorrow; they’re hiding out for the next few days, so he’s indulged.  Unfortunately with the scarce amount that he gets to drink, one and a half beers are enough to leave him with his eyes half-lidded and glazed with sleep.  Gladio leans heavily into the couch, his arm resting over the back, and Iris presses herself against his side.  She’s perfectly sober, thanks to Gladio’s intervention, and as she looks around at the sorry state the other four in, she wonders _why_ anybody bothers with alcohol.

(Gladio’s tried to explain before that exhaustion paired with alcohol - even if it’s as distilled as beer - isn’t a good combination, but Iris informs him that it honestly makes him sound _even lamer_.)

Suddenly, Prompto lifts his head away from the wall.  “Hey Gladio,” he slurs gently.  “If Iris had been your brother, what woulda she been called?”  
  
Gladio looks at him like he has two heads.  Well, he's had enough to drink that Prompto does sort of appear to have two heads.  Maybe he should slow down.  “Dunno,” he grunts.  “Mom loved flowers.  You figure it out.”  He’s had two beers too many to extrapolate on the hypotheticals.  
  
Prompto thinks.  And thinks.  And thinks.  He thinks so long that Gladio wonders if he’s gone to sleep.  
  
“Cactus,” he finally whispers after a long moment.  
  
Ignis comes back from the brink of sleep with a start and lifts his head.  “Excuse me?”  Even with a touch of dry mouth, he still sounds dignified.  
  
“Cacticus.”  Prompto suddenly lets out a guffaw.  “Cacticus Maximus.”  
  
“I'm going to fucking kill you in the morning.”  Gladio groans and drops his head back against the couch and regrets it when the world spins.  But the way Iris just bursts into loud laughter makes his heart warm and wraps his arms around her, tugging her against his chest and beginning to tickle her.  He chuckles lowly when she squeals and squirms, playfully batting at his hands.  They both know damn well if she didn’t want tickled, he’d be nursing some bruised fingers by now, but they also both know that it’s just a fun game.  After a moment he stops, tugging her close and just hugging her to his chest.  He’s definitely a little looser with his affection after the alcohol, but the feelings are genuine and Iris knows this.  It’s not often Gladio’s allowed to just relax and be himself with fewer inhibitions.

Feeling a playful buzz by proxy, Iris leans over to Talcott, who’s quietly playing with his cactuar figurines on the other end of the couch.  She places a gentle hand on his head.  “You’re my little brother now,” she says with a smile.  “And I declare you to be Cacticus Maximus.”  Talcott, for his part, looks pleased with the proclamation.  Prompto cackles excitedly but has to cut himself off and right his chair before he falls.

Gladio would be more caught off guard if he weren’t busy turning his attention to Ignis, who’s let out an undignified snort and is now desperately trying to stem the drip of beer from his nose.  “She _surprised me_ ,” he retorts, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but he’s still chuckling through his throaty coughs.

When the laughter has died down, Iris closes her eyes and settles against her brother’s chest, feeling sleepier now that they’ve all fallen silent.  She thinks she hears Noctis snore.

She feels safe despite knowing that the adults have all partaken in the alcohol.  Gladio’s not totally blitzed; he could still fight off an intruder, but he’s relaxed and Iris loves it.  It lets things feel _normal_ , even for just a little bit.  She nestles closer to Gladio and his arms tighten around her as he rests his cheek against the top of her head.

 

VI.

Iris is 25 when the dawn breaks for the first time in a decade.

She and her group of Hunters aren’t far outside the walls of Insomnia’s ruins; they’ve been looking for any supplies they can gather for _days_.  She’s so sleep-deprived and hyped up on adrenaline that it takes her a long moment to realize that it’s even happened.  She hears the other Hunters gasping, some hitting their knees, and she even hears one offering his thanks to the Six.

And then the finality of it hits her like the first rays of sun in ten years.   _Noctis is gone_.  She’s always known that this is what would happen, but it still strikes her and she presses a hand to her mouth.

But he was never going to be alone.  Prompto, Ignis...and _Gladdy._  They would have all been with him.  Suddenly she feels horrendously sick.

She pulls herself together, however, and leads the group into the city.  Her heart slams in her throat as they approach, seeing the remnants of the city she once loved and called her home.  Is there any chance?  Any hope at all?  Gods knew that hope was in short supply these days, but now it was a new day.  Maybe they could finally dare believe.

When she reaches the stairs to the Citadel, she sees Prompto first.  Relief floods her as he groans in pain.  He’s _alive_.  Hurriedly she kneels beside him, helping him to sit up as she takes stock of his injuries.  Thank _gods_ , it’s nothing too serious.  The head wound looks worse than it is because of all the bleeding, but she can see beneath the blood that it’s more superficial than life threatening.  She can’t stop herself from embracing him thankfully.

“Iris!”  She hears Cor’s voice from behind her and snaps to attention.  Behind a large piece of rubble that blocks them from view, Cor is helping Ignis to his feet.  Well, he’s helping as much as the other man will let him, but there’s a grim set to both of their mouths.  It’s only then that Iris realizes that Ignis is alone - Gladio is nowhere to be seen.

Panic briefly grips her before she forces herself to banish it.  No.  She’s not a child anymore.  She will not panic until she has the truth.

Ignis guides them all to the last place that he heard Gladio’s voice, and Iris hears the tightness in her throat.  Where they stop, there’s a large pile of rubble, and _oh gods_ , there’s a tattooed arm visible from beneath -

They all tear at the rubble, trying desperately to unbury him before it’s too late.  Iris’ hands are bloody and raw by the time she moves aside a rock and sees her brother’s face, and her breath hitches painfully.

Cor manages to extract him from under the worst of it, but Gladio’s still unresponsive.  Iris sits beside him, lifting his head into her lap.  Ignis knees beside her, holding her free hand tightly.  Iris strokes his hair and scarred face gently, willing him to wake up.  She speaks softly to him, reminding him of all the times that he’s been there for them.  She tells him that they all need him - that Ignis needs him, (the other man’s cheeks flush at that, but he does not deny the truth and his free hand rests over Gladio’s sternum), that _she_ needs him.  He breathes beneath their hands, but he does not otherwise stir.

Iris doesn’t care.  She continues to whisper, to remind him.  She talks of the time in the gardens, the time that she’d begun to hit him for not being there to save their mother, the time he’d stopped her from hitting a citizen, the time she’d named Talcott ‘Cacticus Maximus’ - she thinks she hears Ignis let out a slightly wet chuckle at that one.  But Iris speaks of every time she can remember that Gladio has held her and how every memory is precious to her.

Her voice is shot and the sun is directly overhead before Gladio finally opens his eyes, his hand coming up to cup Iris’ chin.  She’s covered in dirt, sweat, blood, and tears, but Gladio smiles.  The sun’s illuminating her perfectly and he’s surprised by the sudden appearance of tears of his own.  
  
“In this light...you’re as beautiful as the day you were born,” he whispers before the wind is knocked out of him when she surges forward and clutches him tightly.  Somehow she manages not to knock into any of his more serious injuries, not that Gladio would have the heart to tell her if she did.  But unlike all the times where he held her, it’s not his arms that wrap around her in turn; he’s still a little too beat up for that.  Now, she wraps her arms around his back, lifts him as best as she can, and tucks his face against her shoulder.  She holds him tightly, the sun beating down on them and bringing that warmth, that _light_ , back into their lives.


End file.
